The Musician
by MymymyHello
Summary: Based off of "Amadeus" and the french film "Mozart's Sister", a young musician finds his success to be troubling in the arts of love, perfection, and envy, all while being the most beloved violinist in 1700th century France, Blois. Please leave reviews. Rated T: Brief Scene with nudity, Sexual Themes, Profanity
1. The Musician

His fingers moved swiftly across the neck of the instrument, fascinating the audience, hypnotizing them in ways they could never even imagined. His posture was extraordinarily perfect, and his confidence awing. His chin, with no chinrest, rest upon the wood, the vibrations rattling his imperfect teeth. His eyelashes tickled his face as his eye lay closed, his confidence once again awing. No music, no composer. Just him.

An audience amazed sat through the full three hours, no need to stand to leave, no need to clap. They prayed it would never end. Such perfection had never been heard of before. Such purity had never been brought to their knowledge. Even the king himself had to be impressed. None had ever been so in love.

The finale was coming; everyone could tell his bow was moving from the tip to the frog faster and faster, his fingers moving even more swiftly from one string to the next. Delight and inclination filled the bodies of every member of the audience, each begging to hear the tune forever. Let the tune be never ending! Let this man be our god scent savior out of this cold winter! Let his music never end…

Alas, it did.

Once his bow played the final note, an A on the D string, he took a moment before lowering it upon his lap, his eyes hesitating to open as he looked down. Yes, he was always displeased with its ending.

The audience rose, the man's gaze at the ground. How could such a beautiful thing be over?

Nevertheless, he looked up and smiled, standing from his chair and soaking up the gratification he had sent throughout the room.

Bowing the people only became louder. The pride he had within him bloomed as he bowed once more, his smile only becoming vaster; greater; grander.

It was the best night he had lived.

Taking one last bow the king himself came up to the stage, his guards following, their smiled hidden.

The king placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, his gratitude remaining as the audience continued to applaud, yet his envy could not get the better of him. He was king, yes, but when did he get such an applause? When was his life this celebrated? When did his people cheer him for after three hours of nothing but one instrument and a possible accompanist?

He had to calm himself.

This was not his day.

As the clapping died down he smiled and brought the attention to him, "Tonight, we celebrate a marvelous young gentleman, whose art form is a glory and a pleasure to have. Whose music is a gateway into beauty. This young man has given us a pleasure we are not to ignore, thus we shall reward him."

The king made a gesture and two men arrived with a box. The young musician handed his instrument to another and opened the gift.

"A medal," the king said, "for your beautiful music."

The young man looked up at the king and smiled, soon shaking his hand, "Merci, votre Altesse."

The king patted the young man's back, then clapped, queuing everyone else to do the same.

What a night for this man. What a marvelous beginning to a new life! What joys were to surround him next? What new treasures would be unfolded?

In due time, everything would begin.

In due time, his life would kick off.

In due time, everything would change.

In no time would he be ready for it.


	2. The Competitor

An opponent, perhaps a year or so older than this man, had been in the field longer and had always dreamed of having his fame. Alas, no luck. He was still a mere violinist.

Of course he had his moments of popularity. He performed alongside the opera O Mio Babbino Caro, the audience mesmerized by both his playing and the young woman's voice.

Jealousy is a horrid thing, and I know of it quite well, but unlike him mine never got the better of me.

What would this man do to have the younger man's life? What would this man do to have the younger man's glory?

What would this man do?

In desperate envy he would sit and listen to the music for hours, fascinated; seduced by such gorgeous works. His life became a mere fly on a windshield. Such passion would build in his body, such lust for the music and the notes. Such craving and desires consumed him and ate him alive.

Jealousy is a horrid thing, but it was not his only emotion…

Find something better to play was his mission, to find a better work of art to call his own, to find something amazing…

But what?

What could it be?

To steal from this young man would be a curse. To steal from this young man would be a death sentence. To steal form this young man would be evil.

He knew his only option.

He dared himself to request it. He dared himself to even suggest the idea to the young man he wished to be.

He dared it, and he did it.


	3. Meeting

Nervously he waited for the young musician.

_When will he show? When will he show?_

At last he arrived.

The young man held his violin in his right hand, the other hand containing his bow.

Walking slowly toward the other man he placed his bow in his right hand and extended an arm, "Didier Moreau."

The other shook, "Satordi Duboi."

His hands were soft. Very soft.

Didier meant desired or yearned for, and this man understood why he was named such.

Didier was slightly intimidated by this older man. Even though his age was only two years more he was on edge. Was this man here to test him? Was this man here to show him how poorly his performance was the night before?

All of those presumptions were incorrect.

Satordi gestured for him to sit down. Accepting, but still on edge, Didier sat. Satordi offered pastries, which Didier accepted, including tea.

The room was decorated with a grand harpsichord, paintings, a vast fireplace, and fine china.

Satordi noticed his guest's red lips and powdered skin. The white hair tied back by a black bow, his chin fair and his cheeks lightly painted with rogue. Didier noticed Satordi's stern look, yet his blue eyes were the most calming aspect about him.

Satordi sipped his tea and preceded to speak, "I wish to challenge you."

Didier was confused, "I beg pardon?"

Satordi went on, "I wish to challenge you to play me."

Didier feared this. He feared embarrassment, but he kept his guard, "What piece? Where? When?"

The older man stood, walking over to the harpsichord and handing Didier a sheet of music.

"Now," Satordi gestured the guards to leave, "here, and this piece."

Didier looked at the music, then at his competitor, "A duet?"

"Improvisation," Satordi pulled out his own bow and began to rosin it, "Do not just sit there. Prepare your instrument."

The young man was very hesitant, but preceded with what he was told to do.

Satordi tuned his violin as Didier practiced a quick piece just to get his fingering back on track.

Satordi set a metronome, "We go at this pace. You are allowed to add whatever you wish to the piece, but you must stick to the basics. Understood?"

Didier nodded.

"One…" Satordi whispered, "Two…Three."

And they played.


	4. Duo

The piece was rather simple. It was of an amateur's writing.

That was Satordi's intention. He wanted it to be easy just so he could see what the young man did with it.

First, they just played the music, both of them getting the feel. Then, once they understood it, they became more creative.

Referring back to a piece he had played the night before he made a section of the music more staccato, throwing Satordi completely off guard.

How quickly Didier confused this man, but this wouldn't be the end of it.

Satordi went into legato sixteenth notes, adding the D major scale in for good measure.

This got Didier worried. How fast his competitor was flying! The strings could have been on fire by now! What kind of challenge was this? What was Satordi craving to get out of this?

No matter. Didier was to win.

He swore as a child he would never back down on a challenge nor lose it, thus he completely switched it up.

Allegretto he played, getting rid of the original notes and throwing in his own. The first measure was allegretto, the next was staccato, and the third was legato. The key signature went from four/four to eight/five, Satordi in utter shock!

Satordi changed his signature to 5/3, turning all of the notes into eight and sixteenths.

Both of them ignored the metronome and whatever the other was playing. This was now a true duel.

Satordi was becoming frustrated! This young man was brilliant and shameless! His confidence could have blinded him.

As they got faster and faster, more and more complex, Satordi screamed out of rage and kicked his stand down, throwing his violin to the ground.

The sound startled Didier out of his seat. Baffled, he remained on the floor, frightened of what Satordi may do to him.

Panting, trying to find an explanation for this young man's perfection, Satordi grabbed Didier by the blouse and stammered angrily for words.

Alas, nothing came, and he tossed Didier back on the floor, kicking the music on the ground.

Removing his wig and sitting on the couch he ruffled his hair. _Why must he be so flawless? Why is he so pure?_

He looked over at the young man whose face was now expressing nothing but fear.

Satordi took a moment to collect himself, then stood, walking slowly over to Didier and helping him to his feet.

Didier nodded and Satordi rang a bell, a servant entering.

"Show Monsieur Moreau to the door," he said, "and get this mess cleaned up."

Didier watched as Satordi exited, the servant soon coming over to remove him from the room.

Frightened of what was to come next Didier debated what to do. Should he wait for Satordi to send for him again, or should he make the first move?

Satordi already answered that question as he sat down in his study, writing out the first draft of a piece he composed for the young musician.


	5. Flawlessly

Summoned once again the young musician took his violin up to Satordi's residence.

Lead inside by a servant or two he finally made it to the music room where Satordi was already playing.

Didier stood and watched as the man's hands moved across the harpsichord with such wisdom, such ethics, and such precision. He saw the faultlessness and cleanliness of this man's hands as he went from key to key, note to note, and with the eyes closed. Didier was amazed and intimidated, but as before he kept his ground and simply watched, a smile growing across his face.

Once Satordi's left hand hit the last key, a B flat, he spoke to Didier, but looked at the harpsichord, "There is music for you on the stand over there."

Didier saw the stand and was hesitant. Was this another duel? Was he being punished? Nevertheless, he walked over, observing the notes.

"I want you," Satordi began, "to play it."

Didier looked back at the harpsichord where Satordi still directed his attention to the keys, somewhat hoping for an explanation.

He never got one.

Doing as he was told his placed his violin under his chin, took a moment to fully grasp the notes in front of him, then proceeded to play.

It was an elegant tune. The notes were long and full of life, yet rather soothing. And, as if he had written it himself, Didier played it flawlessly.

After the first page, Satordi looked back at the young musician, his fascination increasing by each bow stroke and by his perfect technique.

Standing, Satordi made his way to the young man, Didier unaware. He watched over his shoulder as Didier quickly flipped the page, continuing his assignment.

Satordi listened to the notes in his head over a dozen times, but never did he imagine them like this. Never in his life had he been this in love with the way someone played. Never in his life had he imagined this kind of interpretation from something he wrote.

Didier soon finished the piece, a long vibrato on the A string, almost dropping his violin as Satordi placed his hand on the young man's shoulder.

With no recognition of what Didier just played, Satordi placed another piece of music in front of him, Didier rather worried that his playing was unsatisfying.

Quite the contrary.

Didier played the notes he was given. Five pages of nothing but legato notes and constant vibratos. Five pages of a piece Satordi wrote. Five pages of music Satordi hoped would challenge the young musician.

No such luck.

The young man finished the piece at a reasonably fast pace, and not one flaw was heard.

Somewhat frustrated Satordi placed another piece in front of Didier, desperate to find this young man's imperfections.

Didier sighed and continued to play. This piece was like all the others: Legato, vibrato, and soothing.

But by the second page, he stopped playing.

Satordi noticed his mistake.

The young musician was startled himself. This one transition from this note to the next baffled him. It wasn't like he had never played it before. He just couldn't do it.

Sitting down he presumed he was just tired. But still concerned he went back a measure and tried again, but the same thing happened. He tried it again, and again, and again until he was too perplexed for words.

_He _is_ punishing me!_ Didier thought. But this wasn't Satordi's punishment.

This was just another test.

Before the young musician could begin to play again Satordi placed his hand on Didier's bowing hand. The young man was startled, but said nothing.

Satordi knelt down to his level and pointed to the transition he was having trouble with. Didier nodded. Satordi directed his attention to the neck of his violin and showed him fingering that Didier recognized: It was the fingering of the measure before. Didier nodded, but soon realized what Satordi was doing at the transition.

It wasn't as complicated as he had made it.

He looked over at Satordi expecting his face to be frustrated, but quite the contrary. It was smiling. Didier made a nervous grin, and as Satordi stood the young musician went back a measure…

And he played the transition immaculately.

Crossing his arms Satordi smiled once more. This young man was just a musician with impeccable talent and skill. He still had much to learn.

And Satordi would teach him.


	6. To Challenge

The lessons began the next day, Didier now more concerned with perfection than ever.

Satordi placed sheets of music in front of Didier, Didier playing until he got stuck. Satordi would assist him, show him how to make it easier, and Didier would continue to play.

After a few days Didier mastered the art of fixing his own mistakes, and Satordi decided to move it up a little.

By the fourth day Satordi directed the young man's attention to the harpsichord.

"Play what I play." Satordi said, sitting at the harpsichord, Didier pulling out his violin.

Satordi played a simplistic tune and Didier played it back. Satordi played an easy tune and Didier played it back. Gradually, the tunes became harder and harder, but Didier continuously returned them.

After about fifteen of these Satordi told Didier, "Keep your eyes closed."

Didier did as he was told.

He played what he heard, and only what he heard. If he heard an open D he would play an open D.

He didn't dare make it more complex than that.

However, Satordi wanted to throw the young man off guard. Thus, he improvised a fast and seemingly complex set of notes that at first baffled Didier.

He took a moment to recollect what he had heard, then preceded to play.

Flawless.

Satordi smiled. What a creation God had sent him! A beauty with only a violin and a dream! A man of such perfection!

But that could not be all this young man was.

This young man had to be challenged, and that was Satordi's goal:

To challenge this young man.

Playing the violin was second nature. It was something he was practically born doing.

Now, his job was to make Didier think.

As Satordi began to speak, Didier took it as queue to open his eyes, "Sit."

Didier sat next to the older man, "And play this."

Satordi placed a sheet of music in front of Didier all for harpsichord. Didier was a marvelous, unrealistic violinist. Yes, he had some experience with harpsichord, but never anything this complex.

Nonetheless he accepted the challenge.

He placed his violin in its case and then returned to the harpsichord, stretching out his fingers and beginning to play.

He was nervous, but he wanted to prove he could do anything. Why did this matter so much to him all of the sudden? He could not even answer that question to save his own life.

Note after note and key after key the young man played, finally, a flaw was spotted by Satordi's keen ears. Nevertheless, he let the young musician continue.

Once Didier concluded he looked at his teacher anxiously. Satordi looked only at the notes, his hand fixed profoundly under his powdered chin.

"You made three mistakes," he told Didier, "Find them."

Yes, the young man was finally challenged.


	7. An Offer To Never Pass Up

The harpsichord became more vital to the young musician as the weeks passed by. He would play until his fingers bled even without Satordi there to correct him.

He has been reined as perfect, and he refuses to be anything less.

Satordi would simply watch and assign. He wanted to see what the young man did with his directions. He wanted to see what this pure musician did with whatever he said.

Didier forgot what the word sleep meant after the first week. His desperation could have killed him, and he didn't even know why it mattered.

Satordi just liked watching him.

Nothing more.

One evening Didier would never end his practicing. Key after key after note after note he wanted this piece to be perfect. Perfection was his only craving, even if it wasn't what Satordi wanted. He no longer cared what people expected him. It was only about what Didier expected of Didier.

That was all that mattered.

The next morning he spotted a letter slipped underneath his door.

Quickly he opened it:

_Dear Monsieur Didier,_

_Your playing is impeccable and your style is extraordinaire. Thus, the king request you play for his daughters by the end of this week. He wants to hear your violin and your violin alone in his throne room. His daughters Amelie, Nanette, and Helene shall be viewing along with him._

We shall see you Friday at three PM sharp.

Sincerely, Sir Gilmore.

The king and his daughters? This was the opportunity of a lifetime that he could not pass up!

He hurried over to his lesson more excited, yet nervous, than he had ever been in his life.

"Master Satordi!" he called as he entered the music room, "You will not believe what I have been offered!"

Satordi was scribbling down notes for the young man to play and almost dropped his inkwell out of shock, but caught his guard.

He stood, "What has happened, Didier?"

"His highness wishes me to perform at his palace this Friday!" Didier couldn't help but smile, "His daughters shall be watching! It must be of upmost perfection!"

The daughters of the king? Satordi slightly frowned at this. A man of Didier's age going before the princesses of France, possibly taking one of their hands in marriage? This was something Satordi only dreamed of, and now the pupil he willingly took on is pursuing it.

Take a breath, Satordi.

Don't spoil this young man's dreams.

Satordi smiled, still rather envious, "Then we must prepare. Take out your violin and we shall begin with the opera."

Didier smiled and excitedly pulled out his instrument, Satordi making him close his eyes and play from memory.

Obviously, the man was flawless.

Satordi watched him, his jealousy rising, but at the same time he had an amount of pride within him.

He saw a lot of himself in this young musician. Didier's ambition and dream to be perfect was what caught him. His wish to be of a higher stature all because of the notes he played was much like Satordi's same hope and dream.

He smiled at their similarities.

Still envious he didn't dare take this opportunity away from Didier. He wanted Didier to have these moments while they lasted. He wanted this young man to fulfill his dreams.

He wanted all the best for him.

And because of what he wanted for this young man, he stopped teaching Didier, and recommended him to another.


	8. Dinner & Violins

Dressed in his finest Didier played for hours as the daughters and the king himself watched and listened, everyone in the room in pure awe.

However, Didier wasn't in the best mood.

His master had just told him to find a new teacher. Was there something wrong with his playing? Was there something wrong with _him_?

All of these were possibilities, but while he had the moment he took it, and continued to play for the royal family.

The daughters sat together, all of them watching in pure amazement. What a gorgeous violinist stood before them. The most handsome man they had ever seen played the instrument that seduced them the most.

Yes, they all wanted him.

Only one could have him.

At the last piece his eyes remained closed, but the crowd in front of him knew very well that he was done.

The princesses stood and applauded. Like the concert weeks ago he continued to look down, then finally smiled and bowed.

The king came up to him, patting his back, "You are a fine musician, monsieur."

"Merci." Didier bowed to the king.

"I insist you stay for dinner." The king said, startling Didier as he put his violin away.

Didier turned to him, "Dinner?"

The princesses smiled excitedly.

"Oui," the king said, "diné."

Didier did not hesitate to accept, and the princesses all chirped in enthusiasm.

At the table, Princess Helene made her way to sit next to her love, Princess Amelia and Princess Nanette took their seats across from the two, Queen Antonella took the head, and the king took the other head.

They discussed music and all sorts of different events, the princesses agreeing with practically everything Didier said.

By dessert Didier was full, but he didn't dare disappoint the king.

"How long have you been playing?" Princess Helene asked him as the dessert was placed in front of her.

"Since I was four," Didier swallowed his bite, "and so on and so on."

"Who taught you?" Princess Nanette ignored her dessert.

"My mother paid for me to have a teacher. I was his pupil until I was fifteen."

"What happened?" Princess Amelia questioned.

Didier wiped his mouth, his powder coming slightly off on his napkin, "My master passed, I moved out, and by then I was ready to take my talent much more seriously. Thus, I began looking for places to perform and people to teach. Five months ago I got a letter to play at a near by theatre, which I quickly accepted. The crowd apparently loved me, thus I got more offers. Then, your father gave me a medal and I began being taught by Monsieur Satordi. Now, I am here."

There was a long pause, and then Nanette seemed to get an idea.

"Papa," Princess Nanette turned to her father, "may I get lessons from Monsieur Didier?"

"Me as well!" Princesses Helene and Amelia called.

The queen chuckled at her daughters' crushes and the king calmed them all down.

He looked at Didier, "Monsieur Didier, would you be willing to coach my daughters in the art of harpsichord?"

Didier took a moment; him teaching the king's daughters?

He looked at three, then back at the king, and smiled, "Oui, Votre Altesse. I would love to."


	9. Only One

"It's sharp, Your Grace." Didier directed Helene's hand to the correct key, her smile growing: He was touching her!

"Helene, please." She told him. He was surprised, but accepted it nonetheless.

The servant knocked on the door and Princess Helene stood.

"Same time Thursday?" she asked him.

He kissed her hand, "Yes, and keep practicing your scales."

She nodded and was escorted out by the servant, Princess Nanette escorted in by another.

He kissed her hand, "Good day, Madame."

"Nanette." She told him.

He nodded and became rather worried: They were all in love with him.

She sat down at the harpsichord, his dress taking up the entire chair, thus Didier stood and directed her.

The two reviewed what he taught her three days earlier, her hand posture and definition was horrid as it was for the passed two weeks.

At the end of the hour the servant knocked and Didier kissed her hand goodbye.

Only one more for the day.

Another servant brought Princess Amelie in, her dress closer to her body and her hair up in a simplistic bun.

He kissed her hand and she proceeded to sit down near the harpsichord.

"What do you recall from Monday, Amelie?" Didier sat next to her.

She began to play as she named them, "The D scale…the F scale…the G scale…and their arpeggios."

She easily proved she was telling the truth, and Didier nodded. She was the only one whom actually practiced.

"Very good, Your Grace," he applauded, "Excellent."

She blushed slightly, but soon pulled out a sheet of music, "I found some of this music in my father's music room and I thought I'd try it out."

Didier gestured to the harpsichord, "Be my guest."

She placed the music up on the stand. It was an amateur's piece, and she played it with ease. Her posture was perfect, her focus was undisturbed, and her confidence growing. Of course she had to stop and start many times, but Didier wanted to see how she played it before he proceeded to help her.

After about ten minutes she finished it and looked at him. His hand was under his powdered chin and his red lips were pursed in thought.

Then, he remembered something.

He looked at her after a while and said, "Other than the stopping and starting it was very good. However, you made four mistakes that are easily recognizable. As your teacher, I instruct you to find them and self correct."

He saw a lot of himself in this young lady.

He refused to forget his teacher.


	10. Refusal

It was late in the night, but he had to see him.

Knocking upon the door a guard answered, "Yes?"

"I need to see Monsieur Satordi," he said, "Tell him it's Didier."

The guard closed the door and Didier could hear him walking away, another door opening. After a long pause, two footsteps were headed to the door where Didier waits anxiously.

He opened the door, "Didier? I told you to get a new master."

"I wish to be yours, monsieur," Didier said through the little space in the door, "Please, Monsieur Satordi. I wish to be your pupil. What did I do wrong? What did I do to make you no longer wish to teach me?"

"Didier," Satordi began, "it-"

"Whatever it was, I can change!" Didier became desperate, "Please, monsieur! Just teach me. Teach me, monsieur! Please!"

Satordi looked at the young man. He only wanted Didier to be at his best and he was well aware that eventually his jealousy would get the better of him.

No matter, he let the musician come inside.

Didier and Satordi entered the music room. Didier soon realized how different Satordi looked without the powder or the wig, but ignored such. That wasn't what was important now.

The two sat and Satordi poured him a drink, "How is it going with the princesses?"

Didier sipped, "Only one of them actually yearns to play. The other two only beg for me to ask for their hands."

Satordi laughed at this. It was a shock to hear this man laugh, but Didier joined him nonetheless.

Sipping his drink Satordi remembered something and stood, "I saw this and thought of you…" walking to the harpsichord he came back with a piece of music, "It just seemed like something you would play."

Didier placed his cup down and took the sheet reading the notes and listening in his head.

What elegance! What purity and perfection! What savvy diction that this piece could not live without!

Didier was flattered. He looked up at his master, "Might I play it?"

Satordi handed him his own violin, "Of course."

Didier quickly grabbed the violin and placed the music on a stand and didn't hesitate to start playing, and as he heard in his head, it was elegant.

Satordi just listened, soaking up the dreamlike sounds that came from his own violin, but from Didier's playing it was godly.

The evening became darker, but neither became sleepier. As Didier played Satordi listened, and as Satordi listened Didier played.

Once Didier finished, like always, Satordi did not recognize his brilliance.

Didier turned to his teacher.

Satordi's hand was under his chin like always, and he simply said, "You made three notes flat. Find them."

And with a smile, Didier did so.


	11. To Learn To Waltz

She concluded the piece she had been practicing and prepared to go to her lesson as Didier prepared to teach her.

Satordi handed him his music and Didier smiled as he headed out the door to the palace.

Arriving just on time Amelia was already at the harpsichord, and like always there was room for Didier to sit next to her.

"Did you practice?" Didier sat and gestured for her to do her scales.

"Two hours a day," she played, "since I do not have much else to do."

She concluded all her scales and went onto arpeggios, "I finally mastered the other piece you gave me."

"I shall be the judge of that." He told her, the two of them smiling.

She finally finished all her exercises and pulled out the music she claimed she had surmounted, "I believe it is still in common time?"

"Would you like to change it to a waltz?" he questioned as he looked at the notes he had given her.

She became excited, "May I? Please?"

He smiled, "Of course."

She clapped excitedly then turned her attention back at the harpsichord.

"One," he said, "two…three…four."

She changed the key signature to three/four and did her best to still play the same song.

She did very well.

Wonderfully, in fact.

She sight-read the notes and, in her mind, added three notes to each measure. Yes, it contradicted the piece somewhat, but it sounded gorgeous. It was no amateur and it was certainly not mediocre.

It was the work of a student of Didier Moreau.

Once she got the basics of it down she played it all the way through one last time and looked at Didier with a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back.

Taking a minute to think he came to a conclusion, "Ever danced to a waltz?"

She took a moment to think, "I am unaware."

He stood and rang a bell. A servant appeared and he went to him, "Bring in your usual entertainer please."

The servant nodded, and not too long after and older man with a sheet of music arrived, "Oui, monsieur?"

Didier directed him over to the harpsichord, making Amelia stand, "Would you mind playing your most elegant waltz?"

He made a face, "Not at all, sir. Not at all."

He bowed to Amelia and then proceeded to play, Didier taking her hand to dance.

"What are you doing, monsieur?" Amelie questioned.

He kissed her hand, "If you wish to play a waltz you must understand how people are supposed to dance to one."

"I know how to dance to a waltz, Monsieur Didier," she said, "What I need is-"

"This is also an excuse for you to teach me how to dance," he interrupted. She looked at him and he further explained, "I've never been taught."

She blushed, and unlike before she wasn't ashamed to, "Of course, monsieur. Just follow my lead."

She placed her right hand on his shoulder, his left hand on her waist, his right hand holding her left.

"Originally the man leads the dance," she told him, "but since I am teaching you we can put that on the side for now."

He nodded and she began to count in threes, his feet slightly tripping over the other.

She showed him how to twirl her and how to tip, how to lead and how to follow, and the two of them soon began having the time of their lives.

After a while he began to lead, his clumsiness making her laugh, but he would quickly catch himself and make up for it. Twirling her and dancing with her the two could have done this for hours.

After tipping her he brought her up into his arms, their closeness something new and intriguing, his arms around her waist and hers on his chest. Was this the beginning of something more...?

The answer to that would have to wait, as there was a knock on the door, Amelie immediately separating from her teacher.

A servant opened the door and Didier nodded, kissing Amelie's hand after she collecting her music.

"In three days, Madam?" he wanted to see her sooner than that.

She nodded, feeling the same way he did, "Three days."

"Á mercredi." He waved as she was escorted.

"Á mercredi." She waved back.

He watched her leave, the entertainer following her.

Such a feeling had never overcome this young musician. Was it love? Was it lust? Was it his craving for power?

He placed his head in his hands as he heard the sound of the door closing.


	12. Chance of a Lifetime

Satordi was nervous as ever.

An audition like this only comes once in a lifetime.

He listened to the performers before him and they weren't half bad. His only prayer was that they weren't better.

They called his name and he swallowed. Easy, Satordi, easy. Just play your piece and everything will be fine.

He stood from his chair and made his way to the room, his violin shaking as his left hand couldn't calm down.

The three judges sat before him, their gazes judgmental even though they haven't even heard the piece.

He bowed and placed the music on the stand. Exhaling all of his nerves he calmed down and began to play.

The piece began so elegantly and so perfectly. The piece was pure, but after a while things changed up, and he began playing staccato, 2/4. The judges' faces remained the same, the way Satordi's did when he watched Didier play, but within them they were standing and cheering. However, they remained in their seats.

With confidence Satordi closed his eyes and played from memory, somewhat improvising by now. He didn't care if it wasn't what they wanted to hear.

He needed this performance.

He needed this audience.

He needed this.

Once he concluded he took a while to open his eyes, the judges just looking at him.

The woman in the middle spoke, "We will get back to you, monsieur."

He bowed and collected his music, leaving the room as fast as he could.

Later that week after he handed Didier his music and sent him off to teach Princess Amelie he received a letter.

Fear, excitement, and stupidity flung passed his brain, but he didn't have time to just stand there.

Shutting the door to his study he sat down, his leg shaking uncontrollably.

He took the letter opener and ripped open the envelope, his fingers practically ripping the paper.

Then, he had to stop. This answer would change everything. This event would change his life for better _and_ for worse.

He sat back in his chair, tossing the letter on the table. He had to take a breather.

After what seemed like hours he went back to discovering the answer to his fate, the answer to his life.

Slowly unfolding the paper he began to read, dropping the paper out of awe as Didier rushed inside the music room.


	13. Good News, Bad News

"Satordi! Satordi!" the young musician called. He knocked on his master's study, "Satordi, you will not believe what has happened!"

"Neither will you…" Satordi whispered as his pupil opened the door.

"I think Princess Amelie loves me," Didier excitedly began, "and I think I love her! Oh, Satordi, I think I am a man who has fallen in love! Yet, am I crazy? Oh, what does it matter? I want to hold her in my arms until we have melted into one another. I want to see her in the morning before she has made herself look like a priceless painting. I want…I want to be _mine_, Satordi. Is that what love is, Satordi? Surely you have felt it before."

All Satordi did was hand Didier the letter after a long pause, Didier accepting it.

He read it looking up worriedly at his teacher afterward, "A tour?"

Satordi stood and looked out the window, "I'm sorry, Didier."

Didier followed him to the window, "Do not be. This is worth it! You should go!" he took a moment, "But… am I ever-"

"Going to see me again?" Satordi finished the young man's question, "I don't know."

He looked back down at the letter, and then back up at Satordi, "Will you ever come back to Blois?"

Satordi shrugged, "I don't know."

Didier didn't know how to handle this. On the one hand he was happy for Satordi, but on the other he wanted Satordi to stay.

Was he being selfish?

He couldn't tell.

Sitting in Satordi's chair he placed his hand over his mouth, still unable to comprehend what he has read, "Satordi, I-"

"I don't know if I'm going yet, Didier," his teacher said, surprising the pupil, "I'm not sure."

Didier shot up, "Really? But why?"

He looked down. He didn't want to say it was because of Didier. He didn't want to confess that he was too amazed by his pupil to leave.

Thus, he turned to Didier and said, "Traveling in this weather is Hell himself."

Didier smiled and Satordi returned it.

After a moment Satordi clapped his hands together, "So, you mentioned you were in love?"

"Possibly in love, Satordi," he took a seat, "She is a beauty and a marvelous pianist. Her lips are red as a rosebud; her eyes like stars and her hands are soft as a sheep's fur. Oh, I could never love a woman the way I love her."

Satordi took his chair and smiled at Didier. He himself had once been in love, but being in the musical profession she was more interested in someone whose only dream was to make dozens of children.

The relationship never took off.

Didier continued on about how fair Amelie was, how her body was handmade by angels, and how her playing was that of a natural born pianist.

After he explained the waltz moment he sighed and leaned back on his chair, his red lips stretching across his face as he smiled.

What a wonderful feeling it is to be in love. It is of rare occasion, however, that such a beauty shall last. It is of rare occasion that two people are only each other's these days, but back then it was punishable by death to disobey the rules of marriage.

Sitting back up and placing his arms on the table he smiled and Satordi couldn't help but wonder what would happen to him if Didier married Amelie.

Didier stood, "So, may I have a lesson?"

Satordi stood as well, "What shall I teach you?"

"How to serenade, monsieur," he opened the door, "I wish to seduce my Amelie at her next lesson."

Satordi chuckled, "Oui, Didier. I can teach you one of my favorites, but it is on the harpsichord," he looked keenly at his pupil, "Are you willing to accept the challenge?"

Didier made his way to the harpsichord, "Always."


	14. Taken Aback

Through the weeks, the love between Didier and Amelie was kept secret, for the sake of her sisters and for the sake of his reputation.

Satordi began taking on other pupils in slight hope he will get over Didier and be able to move on. Move passed the glorious violinist he wishes he helped mold.

He just couldn't do it, though.

Nothing was working.

One evening Didier told Amelie to sing an opera while he dabbled the piece on the harpsichord.

"Of course, my love," she stood, "I shall sing for you."

He played the opening notes, and soon enough her voice rang through the entire room.

He was awestruck.

A woman with a voice of gold was among him. A woman who has captured his heart with her beauty and art. A woman he wished to marry was before him.

Once she finished the opera he jumped from his seat and lifted her off the ground, spinning her romantically.

After laughing until she could no longer breathe he placed her feet on the ground again, her fingers slipping into his.

He was desperate to kiss her. He wanted her lips and he wanted her body. He wanted her.

Placing the softest hand upon his cheek the princess smiled, his white face the turning the color of pink as he blushed underneath his powder.

"I love you, Didier." She whispered in his ear.

He kissed her cheek, "And I love you, Amelie."

They looked into each other's eyes, soon separating, as there was a knock on the door.

"Oui?" Amelie called, and a woman quickly ran to her.

"Madam!" she cried joyfully, "You will not believe what has happened!"

"What are you speaking of?" Amelie asked.

"The king has found you a suitor!" the woman took Amelie's hand, "He is here, right now!"

Amelie's heart sank to her feet.

She looked over at Didier, desperate to confess her love for him. However, if the king finds someone fit for his daughter's hand…

Well, let's just say there's no disobeying him.

The woman somewhat dragged Amelie out the room as she waved kisses to her love, Didier waving back as the door slammed behind her.

Collapsing onto the couch he could not hold back his tears. The love of his life was soon to be wed by another. What a horrid feeling that grew within him at that moment.

He only had one person to go to.

Leaving the palace as quickly as possible he made his way to Satordi's, banging on the door as hard as he could.

"Open up!" Didier cried, tears coming down his face, "Satordi!"

A servant opened the door, sweat coming down his face, "Are you the doctor?"

Didier froze, "Doctor?"

"Master Satordi is ill," the servant explained, "He is sick."

Didier pushed pass the servant and ran in the direction of which he heard groans and exclamations of pain.

He pushed open the door, "Mon dieu…"

Satordi lay in bed, his body covered in blankets and his face decorated in small red dots.

Didier ran to him, grabbing his hand, "Satordi? Satordi, can you hear me?" he soon grabbed him by the shoulders, "Satordi?!"

He was not dead, but looked as if he could've been.

Didier grabbed his teacher's body and cried upon it, begging God to have this be a mistake.

"Mon dieu…" He was speechless. The man he looked up to the most taken ill? The possibility he could never recover…

He got angry letting his mind think that far.

"Merde!" he slammed his fist down on the table in front of him, "Merde, monsieur! Why must god _do_ this to you? This is blasphemy! Blasphemy!"

He couldn't explain why he was so angered, but I think I can elaborate:

This man was the only man that didn't flaunt over him.

Satordi gave Didier work and didn't "oo" and "aw" because he was a wonderful violinist. Satordi gave Didier ways to improve, and that was different.

That was what made Didier love Satordi.

Promising to stay by his master's bedside until his health was improved he dismissed his classes with the other princesses. By night and by day he remained right by his side, refusing to leave.

He would play his violin to entertain the immobile man, a smile growing within Satordi, but not on his face.

Praying and begging for Satordi to recover, he was soon told by the best doctor he could afford that the condition wasn't as serious as he thought it was.

The weeks proceeding this news was long, but Didier could tell Satordi's illness was retrieving.

He received only one letter from his love, which was filled with unfortunate truths.

She told him how they could never see one another again after she married. She explained how her marriage was of vital importance, but she was unhappy. However, she wished to see him one last time.

He couldn't leave Satordi's side, though.

Thus, she came to him.

Didier opened the door for her, hurrying her inside as a cloak covered her.

The moment she removed the horrid cloak he lifted her, twirling her around in circles, her laughter the first pleasant thing he's heard in days.

Placing her feet back upon the ground he kissed her cheek.

She flinched.

Separating from his arms she turned away, Didier confused as to why she was doing this.

"Amelie?" he questioned, "Is something wrong?"

As he came closer she smacked him as hard as she could, tears coming down her face.

"This is sacrilege!" she cried, "I am engaged! I am…I-"

She placed her hands on her cheeks and screamed. The confusion was killing her inside. Squatting she screamed once more, begging for an answer to why she wanted this man. Begging for an answer to why she was willing to betray her father's orders.

Adultery was ungodly. Adultery was a sin, but she couldn't resist how much she loved this violinist.

He hesitated to hold her after what she told him, but she soon grabbed him and pulled him into her arms, bawling on his shirt.

He knelt down to her level, still holding her and still loving her. Refusing to admit that their love is inhibited he kept her in his arms, soaking up the final time he would feel this type or warmth.

Before he knew it, though, the servant arrived in the room, announcing Satordi's recovery.


	15. Loving Another

Didier ran into the bedroom, Amelie following.

The servant stood aside as Satordi opened his eyes, his red spots gone.

"Satordi?" Didier gently pushed back some of his teacher's hair, "Satordi, can you hear me?"

Satordi opened his eyes lightly, smiling at Didier, "Oui, Didier. I can hear you."

A tear of joy came from Didier as he knelt on his knees, thanking god as Satordi placed his hand lightly on his pupil's head, Amelie watching the scene:

She was amazed that a man could cry for another in such a way. She was amazed of this deep feeling Didier felt.

She was amazed that she couldn't have him for herself even if they did marry.

Sighing lightly she went back into the main room, took her cloak, and left the house without looking back.


	16. Challenge Accepted

The next day Satordi was able to walk around, Didier ecstatic over his master's health improving.

Not only could Satordi walk around, but also he could tell Didier to play, and play Didier did.

As Satordi continued to regain his strength Didier fiddled on his violin and the piano, mainly practicing, but also playing whatever piece Satordi shouted out for him.

After Satordi had been well for three days Didier began to think about Amelie, The wedding was in a month, and he would be crushed to see it.

Little did he know she moved on.

She made herself ignore Didier's very existence. If a man like that cared for Satordi so much how could she ever have him for herself?

Obviously, her sisters never got over him, but she had to.

She had to forget.

And very slowly, Didier forgot too.

"No, go back!" Satordi told him, "Go back to the first measure and play that bit. It doesn't sound right. Find that section that doesn't work and work it out."

Didier nodded and continued on the violin as Satordi lied back on the couch, closing his eyes to listen.

He played the piece over and over, trying to figure out what didn't sound right.

And then he realized what his teacher was doing.

He put his violin in resting position, "Master, there is nothing wrong with this piece. I have played it flawlessly over six times. You are just testing me, aren't you?"

Satordi opened one eye with a smile, and Didier knew that meant 'yes'.

Standing up and patting Didier on the back Satordi had never been more proud of anyone in his life.

"Now, harpsichord." Satordi said, Didier already beating him to the punch.

He quickly went through all his scales and all his arpeggios, Satordi placing a sheet of music in front of him.

"From the top," Satordi pulled out his baton, "Un, deux, trois."

Didier played as Satordi conducted. Satordi had never brought out the baton before, but Didier didn't think of it twice.

Going through music after music, Didier's hand soon became tired, but he had to keep on playing. New music was there for him to sight-read, but all of it was easy to him Every last note was that of an amateur.

Satordi stopped his playing and proceeded to think. How else would he challenge his pupil?

Then, he got an idea.

Going into his study he came back with a stack of paper, placing it on a table next to Didier's violin.

"Your assignment," Satordi told him, "is to compose a piece."

Didier stood, looking at all the pages, "Something thins long?"

Satordi nodded, "No more, no less."

This was definitely a challenge Didier would accept, "Any type of music?"

"Just has to be this long," Satordi patted the pile, "Are you ready to go through with it?"

Didier picked up the stack, "Always."

Satordi grabbed his pupil's shoulders and smiled. Didier smiled back as Satordi clapped his hands together, "You have a week. I do not want to see you until that time is up. Understood?"

Didier nodded in understanding.

Managing to pick up his violin Didier headed out the door, prepared for the challenge he had just accepted.


	17. A Price

Once again he had forgotten the word "sleep".

To compose a work of art in a week was definitely a difficult task, but he refused to back down from it. Satordi expected much of him, and he never wished to disappoint him.

He would tinker around on the violin and his harpsichord all the time, jotting down random notes and random melodies in effort to create this masterpiece.

One evening, late at night it was, he was sitting by a single candle, trying to write piece when there was a knock at the door.

He went to the door and opened it, revealing Princess Helene.

He bowed, "Majesty, I-"

"Helene," she said, "May I come in?"

He took her coat and she entered, looking around the small room.

"Your home is cozy," she said, lightly touching the harpsichord, "and rather lovely."

"Merci, Madam," he said, gesturing for her to have a seat.

She didn't sit and continued to talk, "My sister is to be married in less than a month. All of France is buzzing about it and so is all of Blois," she came closer to him, "Are you attending the wedding?"

He placed her coat in the closet, in slight desperation to keep her away from him, "I presume I must."

She laughed, "You don't have to do anything," she walked up to him, "other than teach me the art of," she placed her hand on his shoulder, "music."

This disgusted him. A woman whom didn't care for this beautiful art form was willing to pretend all so she could be intimate with the man in front of her.

He pushed her hand away, "Frankly, I do not believe you have what it takes."

She pursed her lips at this.

Then, she made a smug grin and made her way back to the harpsichord, her fingers gently touching the keys.

"How much an instrument such as this must mean to you," she said, "A woman of my stature is rather intimated by your fingers and the way elegantly make everyone's heart beat faster, their palms sweat, and their minds go a blur other than the sound you make," she picked up his violin, "on a silly instrument."

She looked back at him, "Of course, an instrument like this is very valuable to you. You have needs, monsieur, and so do I. You need this piece of wood, and I have more vital aspects to attend to," she plucked a string on the instrument, "and you can help me tend to them."

He cocked an eyebrow, "Are you bribing me?"

She laughed, "Oh, such a wonderful violinist like you should not have to ask such a pathetic question," she plucked another, "You of all people would know."

"I am a musician, not a psychic." He told her.

She plucked another, letting it ring, "But you know, wouldn't you? Thus, I ask you, Monsieur Didier the Great Violinist, why did I come here tonight?"

This revolted him. He knew what she was doing and she was doing it well. She was a princess who loved to abuse power, and she was dangling all his dreams in front of his nose.

She somewhat tossed the violin back on the table, Didier running to it to make sure it wasn't broken, but she stopped him by placing her hand on his chest.

He didn't dare fight her, "The answer is no, _votre Altesse_," he pushed pass her, "It shall always be."

She grabbed his arm and he gritted his teeth, "You dare disobey the daughter of your king?"

He turned to her, "You may be the daughter of my king, but you are disgusting!"

She laughed, "Making a deal with the most successful and handsome violinist in France is not disgusting. However, that very violinist willing to be with my married sister is _repulsive_."

He was taken aback. She knew of the incident between Amelie and himself. She knew of their love.

He held his guard, swallowing nervously.

She knew she startled him, her smug grin turning into a smile, "So, what is it going to be?" she used him arm to bring him closer to her, "I destroy your reputation…or you become the most famous violinist in all of Europe?"

To be in this situation was certainly not ideal. If he said 'no', not only his reputation would be damaged, but Amelie's as well. If he said 'yes', every opportunity known to man would be at his feet.

He didn't know what to say to her. It was so wrong to accept this, but for the sake of Amelie…his love…

Smiling, she knew she had caught his tongue, and brought him into a kiss.

Her lips were greedy and his were unexpected. He made himself be seduced by her, ignoring how wrong this all was.

Picking her up into his arms he brought her to the bedroom, her lips still kissing his.

He lay down on the bed, her hand on his chest.

They looked at one another, her hand pushing her off him and he stood, her sitting up on the bed.

She placed him in a chair and began to undo her clothing.

Piece by piece she all that was left was her bare chest, and to his horror she began undoing his clothing.

He wanted nothing more than to push her away as she exposed his chest, kissing him, his arms around her.

She looked into his eyes, their noses touching, "A lifetime of opportunities is on its way, Didier. But for now…" she laid back on the bed, "Take me away."

Standing and looking down at the princess, he sighed, removing his trousers and doing as told.


	18. For Shame

He awoke the next morning ashamed, praying it was all a dream, but feeling the warm body in his arms he would be a fool to deny it.

Letting go of her he left the bed, quickly heading for the lavatory.

Locking the door he turned on the sink, desperate to feel clean after what he just went though.

Everything was a mess. He had just had intimacy with a princess, and knowing this woman she may expose his love for Amelie anyway.

Slamming his fist into the wall her was at a loss. What to do? What to do?

Sighing angrily he took a moment to catch his breath, soon his name being sung from the bedroom.

Didier she sang, Where are you?

He put on some undergarments and opened the door, stopping right next to the bed, "You disgust me."

"And that's news?" she made a mischievous face, extremely smug.

A tear or two came down his face and she gasped, "Don't cry! Men who cry are weak! And a man of your 'confidence'"- he rolled his eyes at this- "should have no need to cry."

"You're horrid." He wiped his tears.

"That may be so," she stretched across the bed, "but I'm also cold. Hold me."

Hesitating for a moment he soon did as told and gently wrapped his arms around her bare body.

She moaned happily, "Your grasp is so warm, Didier," she kissed his hand, "and very firm…"

They remained there, her pleasured to be in his arms and him thinking of all the shameful events that took place.

Unmarried and performing sexual acts with the king's daughter for power?

He should've been burned at the stake.

After a while she turned her body so she was facing him, her hand rubbing his chest, "Did you like what you saw, monsieur?"

He didn't want to answer that. He was repulsed by the entire situation.

Choking back tears he responded bluntly, "You got what you wanted. Shouldn't that be enough?"

She pursed her lips, "That's not all I wanted," her eyes flickered downward, "but I was more satisfied than I thought I would...and monsieur, you are a violinist with a _full_-sized violin."

She tittered as he stood and walked way from the bed, placing a hand over his mouth and letting the tears come down his face.

Shame was all he had. Shameful actions took place the night before. Such vulgarity was before him.

And all of it because he fell in love.

She had done it. She had made this powerful man feel like nothing but an incompetent whore.

She wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, smiling into his back.

"Lost your manhood, have you?" her hands crept lower, "Oh! Still there," she turned him to face her, "What a wonderful thing."

She kissed him, his tears sneaking between their lips making the kiss rather moist.

Then he pushed her away, her legs tripping over themselves onto the bed.

"Didier?" she was shocked, but soon he came up to her, his face enraged and his hand around her neck.

He never squeezed his hands, though, "Say whatever the hell you wish about me," he choked his tears, "but don't say a damn word about Amelie!"

She was afraid at this point, but kept her smug look, "I've already…gotten what I wanted. Why would I wish to embarrass you?"

"Because, _Votre Altesse_," he gritted his teeth, "you are nothing but selfish, spoiled, good-for-nothing bitch."

She smiled, still containing her fear very well, "Your point being?"

He felt defeated, but like her he held back his weakness, "Ruin my life. Go ahead, but don't do anything to damage Amelie's," he swallowed, "Got it?"

She nodded lightly, his hand roughly leaving her neck.

Picking up her clothes he tossed them to her and walked to the bathroom, "Be gone, Madam. Next time we meet it shall be at the wedding..." he took a moment to think about this, "or in Satin's quarters."

Closing the door to the restroom Helene sighed. She had gotten what she desired from him, but not what she truly wanted.

As evil as she seemed, all she wanted was he to walk up to the altar with her, vowing to never leave her side.

She never planned on telling anyone about the relationship between her sister and Didier. Besides, is disgusted more than anyone else. All she wanted was a chance to feel close to him. All she wanted was to be with the man she would have killed for.

In reality, we're all a lot like that.

Smirking slightly a tear streamed down her cheek as she put her clothes on, taking her coat out of the closet, and taking one last pluck on the violin before she left.


	19. Survive, We Will

Preparing for his lesson he powdered his face, placed on his wig, his clothes, packed his violin and took the coach over to his master's.

Arriving he knocked on the door, Satordi answering it and welcoming in his pupil.

"Good morrow, Didier," he brought his student into the music room, "I presume you concluded your assessment?"

He pulled out a large stack of paper and handed it to Satordi, his master's smile growing.

Taking a seat he looked through the pages fascinated with each and note musical choice.

He looked up at his pupil, whom was still standing, "This is an opera," Didier nodded, "and a beauty at that."

Still in much awe he could never get over the beauty of what Didier had written. Each stroke of his pen was not a random choice. Each note was defined and had a story behind it.

He looked at Didier, "In Italian?"

Didier shrugged, "Seemed like a nice choice."

Satordi scratched his chin, "The story is of an interesting choice. I mean, the music itself is…" he was at a loss for words, "but the story? Why this story?"

Didier did not want to answer that, but Satordi was more than a teacher to him.

Satordi was a friend.

Taking a heavy breath he prepared to explain, "I was in love, as you know, but…sometimes love has a nasty way of coming back and taking a piece out of you and replacing it with the devil's spawn…" he made sure he didn't cry, "Love is a crude device that people will push you against the wall with. Love is a creation that is wonderful while it lasts, but when such joy is over it is Hell itself, dangling delightful bait in front of your very nose…with the nastiest prices."

He took another deep breath as his eyes began to water, "I came in contact with this two days ago, thus turning into my assignment. I am too ashamed to admit what I did, but it was the inspiration for this piece. My dear Satordi…I have been a horrid man."

Coming to his knees he began to sob, the guilty overcoming him like nothing else ever has.

Satordi simply watched, soon placing the sheet music down and kneeling down to the young musician's level, taking his face and smacking hard, Didier completely stunned.

"You listen to me, Didier," his voice was sterner than Didier had ever heard, "You are a wonderful and an even better musician. Love is a gift, and yes, at times it can be cruel. Whatever happened two days ago, though, does not define who you are or what you are to become. Don't you let this heartbreak destroy you, Didier. You can move passed it. And I will help you as your teacher," he grabbed Didier's hand, "and as your guide."

Nodding, Didier never thought he'd see this side of him, and neither did Satordi.

He would always be envious of the musician, and he would always want his kind of success, but Satordi came to notice that at this point it wouldn't matter.

Even though he'd never admit it, the two men were friends.

And that was good enough.


	20. Forgetting

The day of the wedding came, and Didier was shaking.

"Are you ready?" a guard asked him.

He nodded nervously, exhaling as he rubbed his hands back and forth.

Satordi came up and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Don't fret. It will all turn out well."

"Same for you." Didier said, trying to give a reassuring smile.

A guard gestured for them to follow him into the church.

The harpsichord was larger than Satordi ever imagined. White as snow and laces of gold traced the floor around it.

The violin was made of the finest wood, the string silver and the neck gold.

The two were in heaven.

"Ah, Didier!" the king walked down the aisle, passing all the empty seat, "What a pleasure to see you once again!"

Didier bowed, "The pleasure is mine. Besides, you did invite my master and me to play."

The king looked and smiled at Satordi, "Of course, the marvelous Satordi."

Satordi bowed, "Merci, _merci_, monsieur for letting us come play in this fine day."

"Well, I want only the best for my daughter's wedding," the king smiled, "and who could be better than Didier and the man who made it all happen?"

A slight zap of guilt zipped through Satordi, but he smiled and bowed once more as the king left.

Trying out the violin Didier was more than pleased with the results.

"God sent this to me," he sighed, "I love this!"

Satordi played randomly on the piano, opening his mouth wide with a smile as he felt the keys.

"He sent me this as well," Satordi gasped out, "Thank you!"

The two played some unsystematic duet, which was soon halted by an uptight composer.

"As the guests come in," he placed music on their stands, "you shall be playing this piece. While her Altesse walks down the aisle you shall play the piece underneath it, and after the vows you shall play the one I hand you later on. The reception has completely different music, which you will be given later on. Understood?"

The two nodded, the composer gesturing for the guard to open the doors, leaving Satordi and Didier for a brief moment.

Satordi got up from the piano and went to Didier, "Are you all right?"

"Marvelous!" Didier could not get over the violin, "This is a-"

"I mean about the wedding!" he said louder than he intended, "Are you _all right_?"

Didier took a minute. He didn't want to be seen by Amelie or by Helene, but this was another opportunity he could not have passed up.

Taking a deep breath he nodded, "I will be."

Satordi patted his back, soon rushing back to the harpsichord as the composer queued them to start the welcome music.

It was excruciatingly easy. Satordi could not even count the number of times he almost fell asleep and nor could Didier. Nevertheless, they continued to play until they were directed to stop.

After about an hour, once everyone had gotten settled in their seats, the bridesmaids arrived: The sisters of Amelie.

Nanette waved flirtatiously at Didier, and unexpectedly Helene looked back at him as well.

Didier continued to play but look at her, her face saddened, but more beautiful than he had ever seen. The rosy make up really reflected well off the chandelier, and the innocence in her eyes was extremely deceiving.

Eventually she made a smug grin and turned back around, somewhat coming to terms with the fact that she could never have him.

The composer finally made them stop playing the fool's music and made the two begin the piece for when she walked down the aisle.

Satordi began to play the music given to him as Didier joined in, his eyes more on Amelie than the music.

She was unrealistically exquisite. Her dress added to her angel presence and her heavenly smile.

However, she did not have a smile during the wedding.

She spotted Didier, almost stopping as she walked, but her father's arm was in hers, thus she kept going.

Reaching the groom the composer cut Satordi and Didier off, Amelie's attention now on her betrothed.

He wasn't as handsome as Didier, and not even as handsome as Satordi. I presume his wealth made up for that.

The two exchanged vows, Satordi looking mainly at Didier, making sure he wasn't falling apart.

Didier kept his attention on the wedding, and once they exchanged vows, their lips pressing and the guests cheering, he looked away; the composer conducted them to the piece he had placed on their stands.

Didier looked right at the music, but Satordi played by memory and watched as Amelie and her husband scampered out the door, the forced smile on her lips killing him inside.

Before they played for the reception Didier took a nice chug of water, Satordi following him.

"Can you do this?" Satordi asked, Didier throwing his glass to the ground.

"I don't know, Satordi!" he called out, "I don't know."

There was an intense pause between the two, soon the conductor coming into the room, "Gentlemen, the reception starts in two and I need you ready! Let's go!"

Gritting his teeth Didier made his way to the violin, Satordi taking his seat at the harpsichord.

Before they began Didier took one last glance at Amelie, soon sighing and turning his attention to the music.

He had to forget her.

And as he played, he didn't even remember her name.


	21. The Perfect Voice

Satordi had found the perfect woman to sing Didier's opera.

"I cannot believe," he had invited her over to his home, "that you can sing in such a way."

"I have my teachers to thank for that." She took a seat next to the piano.

Satordi sat next to her, handing her the music, "I think you will be very pleased with what is written."

She took it willingly, looking over the different pages, amazed by what her eyes were reading.

She looked up at him, a smile across her face, "Mon dieu! And you wrote this, monsieur?"

His smile slowly faded. He did not write the piece he handed her. He did not write any of it. As much as he would have loved to tell her he did…

He just couldn't do that to Didier.

Regaining his smile he shook his head, "No, Madam. My pupil wrote it, and I am very proud of him for it."

She made a flattering smile, "Then you must be an extraordinary teacher, Satordi."

And with no control over it, Satordi blushed.


	22. The Tale Was Told

Didier was very satisfied with the woman Satordi had chosen. He was rather impressed and wished to prepare a concert immediately.

Throughout the next three months the show was being molded and prepared for the performance of this young woman's life.

"I can't believe this," she gasped, "This is happening…"

"You deserve it, Aubreé," Satordi told her as they watched the set for the opera be built, "You are a lovely singer, and a splendid person."

She grinned, "A marvelous musician and a charming young man you are, Satordi," she smiled, "You truly are."

Didier worked hours on end with Aubreé, the two of them overly excited for the month ahead.

Not only Didier, but also Satordi, and stylists, set designers, etc.

It was all in due time.

By four months the opera was set, and the big day had come.

"I'm so nervous." She adjusted her dress.

"Aubreé, you are an angel," Didier told her, "A gift sent form heaven."

"You are suburb, Madam," Satordi kissed her hand, "No need to fret."

The coach arrived at the theatre, all three of them making their way to the vast stage.

She went with Didier to practice scales. Up and down, side-to-side she sang as Satordi made sure everything was in order.

The guard gave notice that the audience was being let inside, Satordi nervously shaking.

Aubreé took his hand, "You're more jumpy than I am."

He looked over at her, his smile widening as he tried to hide his blush.

Didier picked up and tuned his violin, Satordi playing up and down the harpsichord. The rest of the orchestra came in, including the conductor. (Even though Didier composed it, he played along with it.)

It was opening night and the house was full, the royal family taking the usual seats.

The conductor came out, the orchestra tapping their bows on their stands, the audience clapping.

He introduced Aubreé, Didier, and Satordi, the entire audience applauding at their names, especially Didier.

The opera began.

The notes flew in the air, each and every note tickling the audience. Each and every note played by Satordi was seducing. Each and every note sung by Aubreé was heavenly. Each and every note bowed by Didier was pleasurable.

Hours and hours the audience was entranced. The story Didier had composed was grabbing. The tale of such seduction and such ravishing intimacy and emotion was inspiring.

Helene knew of where the story was born, and she was flattered. She was pleased that the love of her life had written an opera based off of her.

Didier didn't know of her feelings, and he could care less.

Amelie, however…

It was like falling in love with Didier all over again.

The opera concluded, and the audience took a good five seconds to fully realize it was over.

They all stood, cheering uncontrollably.

They all bowed, the conductor conducting the orchestra went to join them, including the other opera members.

The king himself had to make everyone calm down, his guards following him up to the stage.

"I must say," he began, "that this is the best opera I have heard in my lifetime."

They all applauded, and the king settled them, "You are a god scent, Didier, and so are Monsieur Satordi and Madam Aubreé," she snapped his fingers, "and I have rewards for each of you."

A guard handed Aubreé a necklace, the king explaining the gifts, "This necklace is said to assist your vocals," another guard gave Didier a bow, "This bow is of the finest horse hairs," the final guard gave Satordi gloves, "and these gloves are to help your hands in the ways of the harpsichord.

"You are all gifts from God," he clapped, "We shall treasure you forever."

Aubreé cried, grabbing the hand of Satordi.

Didier caught a rose thrown from the audience, his tears coming down his face.

Helene smiled at the crying man before her.

Weak men cry, but he was the strongest she had ever seen.


	23. Forever Begins Now

He didn't expect to get this offer.

Coming over to Satordi's he knocked, soon entering and heading right to the music room.

"Satordi," he saw his friend playing on the harpsichord, "you will not believe what has happened."

Satordi stood, "What happened?"

Didier sighed nervously, "Remember the opera?"

Satordi made a face, "Of course, Didier. How could I forget?"

He handed Satordi the letter, "Some men from Paris came on the third night and came every night afterward," Satordi took the letter, "They are offering me a job."

Satordi was speechless. He looked up, "As a composer?"

"And as a performer," Didier shrugged, "It pays wonderfully, but I-"

"Take it," Satordi handed the letter back to him.

Didier cocked an eyebrow, "What?"

Satordi grinned, "Didier, you are young man with a talent that people would _kill_ for. You are a gift sent from God…and you shouldn't spend all of it in Blois.

"Go to Paris, live your life, and be the success you were meant to be," he placed his hand on Didier's shoulder, "Your destiny awaits."

Crying, Didier pulled Satordi into his grasp, hugging his true friend.

Yes, envy seeped into Satordi's veins. Yes, he wished he had been offered this marvelous position. Yes, he would _murder_ to have Didier's success…

But something about this young man stopped him.

Something about this young man forbad him.

Something about this young man changed him.

And whatever it was, it made him change as a man.

He would always be jealous, but he would not let it get the better of him…

And that was different.

That is what Didier changed.

Satordi had changed Didier as well.

Years of being flaunted and adored no one had ever dared to challenge him in his life. No one wanted to see him make a mistake, for if he did, they would be crushed, and he would no longer be god's gift.

Satordi showed him, through helping him with music and with Princess Helene…

That he is only human.

Musicians aren't perfect.

But, everyone presumed Didier was…

All except Satordi.

The hug disbanded, the two smiling at each other.

There was a knock on the door and Satordi answered while Didier wiped his eyes, "Oui?"

The servant came in, "Monsieur, Madam Aubreé is at the door."

"Aubreé?" Satordi questioned, "Bring her in!"

The servant nodded and headed out of the music room, Didier taking his letter.

"I am to leave by Monday," Didier said, "I shall see you before then?"

"Of course." Satordi smiled. Didier smiled back and kissed Aubreé's hand as he passed her on his way out.

"Aubreé," Satordi closed the door to the music room, "What a pleasant surprise."

"I knew I would be," she said, "I always am."

He smiled, "And on what special occasion do I owe this surprise to?"

She smiled. Coming closer to him her eyes reflected flawlessly off the light from the window. Her hand touched his cheek, soon her lips on his cheek, and then they were on his lips.

Wrapping his arms gently around her waist the gentlemen had been waiting for this. He had been in love with Aubreé from the moment he saw her.

Pulling her closer her hand left his cheek and they simply remained together, their lips pressed.

They separated, their noses touching.

He was flattered, "Aubreé…"

Her hand felt the powder on his face, "You are a wonderful man, Satordi," she looked at the clock, "I must part for my vocal lesson, but I shall see you this evening."

He was confused, "This evening?"

She opened the door, stopping to turn back at him and smile, "That wasn't a question."

Closing the door behind her, all three of them saw wonderful days ahead.


	24. One Last Time

Tending to her youngest child it was hard to chase after her six-year-old, already pregnant with seemingly two more.

Taking a breather she rested as the maids attended to her children.

Heading into the study she sighed, another letter from another woman accusing the king of messing with her.

She tossed it over her shoulder.

They were most likely all true, and she didn't give it a second thought.

She was already miserable in the marriage, thus why care about all the other problems people were desperate to add.

Pouring herself a glass of water she was craving some sort of liquor, but it was not ladylike, nor was it healthy.

The maid knocked on the door, "Votre Altesse?"

"Oui?" she grunted, holding her baby belly.

The maid entered, bowing, "Your sister wishes to know if this is a good time to visit."

"Which?" she asked, but soon put up one finger, "Never mind. I do not care for either."

"Are you sure, Votre Altesse?" the maid seemed anxious, "Your sister is very-"

She put a hand up, "I do not wish to hear any other explanations. Besides, Alain needs his diaper changed."

The nurse bowed, closing the door on her way out.

The queen twirled the glass around, making sure not to spill any.

Completely uninterested she turned her attention to the window.

Townsfolk were all getting in their best to go to the newest opera composed by the great Satordi.

She dismissed it completely.

She couldn't think about them.

The day passed by excruciatingly slow, but once it was over she laid back on the bed, her husband not there as usual.

Looking up at the ceiling she was completely out of it. She had forgotten what it was like to smile, to have pure joy, and what it was like to be in love.

Then, she remembered where all of those aspects started.

_Don't you dare,_ she told herself. _Don't. You swore it away._

She couldn't help herself.

Walking into the music room she held the candle and the sheets of music in her arms, heading over to the dusty instrument.

Blowing and wiping off all the dust she placed the music on the stand, sitting herself down on the familiar cushion.

Feeling the keys lightly underneath her fingers she melted into them, remembering the mistakes she made and how he made her correct them.

She smiled.

It was as if her skin cracked.

Looking up at the music she took a breath, and proceeded to play.

It was just a D scale…

But it brought such a joy to her eye.

Continuing on she didn't even need the music. Suddenly, the G, the A, the F, and all of the scales and arpeggios came back to her like magic.

It was beautiful.

Then, she recalled the challenging piece.

She recalled the piece se fell in love to.

She recalled the waltz.

Over ten years ago she played such a piece. Did she dare attempt it once again?

Pulling out the paper it was still in 4/4, her mind changing it to ¾.

She began to attempt it, but nothing really happened. What was the matter?

_"If you wish to play a waltz you must understand how people are supposed to dance to one."_

She closed her eyes…

She had spun him, her feet moving one each first beat…

And the notes were alive.

It was suddenly easier than it was a decade ago. It was suddenly born!

She was reborn.

She remembered her teacher's gentle hands, his flattering clumsiness, her teaching him to dance…

And soon the memory faded as another hand slammed their first on the keys.

She looked up, her husband's eyes barely open, but his eyebrows arched.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asked sternly, "Come to bed." She didn't move, "**Now**."

She stood from the harpsichord, rushing to the bedroom.

However, before she closed to doors she looked back at the instrument. She looked back at the beginning something that could've been magical. She looked back on love.

Smiling for one last time she closed the doors, always remembering her love, the great musician.


End file.
